My Partner in Crime

It was hot and sweaty

these days in the Florida summer heat.

When all there's to do is Disney land, the beach, and who knew  

a sky full of blue with a story asking to be told.

I picked up a pen and my journal.

Doodling on the sides of my paper until the words began to flow.

Jotting down the smell of freshly cut grass and the way it mixed

with the sweet aroma of lilac in the air.

It wasn't much but it was enough.

Enough to make me realize that everything

has a story to be told.

And so I carried on through the years,

keeping a journal for only my ears.

Not just eyes to read 

but ears because poetry sings.

People came and went like the tide

only to draw me closer to my Clyde. 

This was the name I gave my journal. 

Something so personal and significant that I always had by my side

it needed a title, for, it was my partner in crime.

Speaking for me when my words fell silent,

calming my mind when all I needed was quiet.

Peace and serenity is all we ask for 

when little did we know,

it is found in the depths between blue parallel lines

and ink to let it all go.

It is my second voice.

The only one I don't have to censor

or think about before etching it into these pages. 

Here lies a place where the truth isn't caged

feelings can be spilled rather than bottled up.

Deepest most darkest secrets

riddled and rhymed before me in ways that

someone other than I can't break into.

Even when left in plain view.